He was astonished. Suspicious. “Where shall I start?”
“As early as you wish. You were born in the Bujavid.”
He nodded, jaw still set. “One does not rememberthat, nadi.”
“What isyour first memory, young gentleman?”
He thought. “The big stairway in Uncle Tatiseigi’s house.” A pause. Tutors pounced on such inexactitudes and carried on for an hour. “He is my great-uncle, but one has always called him uncle, the way I call my great-grandmother mani.”
“One certainly understands. One would do the same, in all courtesy. And your second memory, nandi?”
“The mechieta pen. The stables. I remember something earlier, but it was about the foyer with the lilies and uncle telling me not to go to the stables. And I was bored, so I did anyway. I was not a very obedient nephew. I watched. I climbed up on the fence to see—I was very short, then—and there was a mechieta waiting there, all saddled. And it looked so easy—he was very near the fence. I climbed on. He broke his rein and broke the gate latch and went right across uncle’s new driveway. It was new concrete. And they had to wash the mechieta’s feet and they had to break up the concrete that had set and pour new, because it was a mess.” He ought to be sorry about it, he was sure, but he really never had been. It had been exciting, and he was proud of himself for having stayed on.
Except that mani had been inconvenienced. That was never good.
“So what do you know about concrete?”
“It gets warm when it sets,” he said. And it takes days to do it.”
“Interesting,” Dasi-nadi said. “Do you know why it gets warm?”
“No, nadi. One has no idea.”
Dasi-nadi told him, and sketched on his slate, and it was interesting but short. So they went on, and he talked about coming back to the Bujavid and meeting his parents and not really remembering them. And the first time he remembered nand’ Bren.
And he talked about the big hall of the Bujavid and the paintings.
“Do you know which paintings are always in the hall?” Dasi-nadi asked him. “Four change, but three are always there. Which three?”
He had no idea. So he learned something else, very quick and actually interesting, that he could be smug about if anyone asked him.
And he learned a third thing. That he was not bored. He could bend the lesson any direction he wanted to go, and if there was an answer he knew, he could give it, and if he had no idea, Dasi, who seemed very smart, could tell him.
“You were notboring, nadi,” he said with a little bow when they were done. “You teach like nand’ Bren. You may come back!”
“One is flattered, young gentleman,” Dasi-nadi said, smiling. “One is quite flattered.”
It really was the first time he had ever enjoyeda tutor’s lessons. He enjoyed it so much he asked himself whether it really had been a lesson, or whether Dasi-nadi was just trying to get the better of him. He had almost been tempted to tell Dasi how much he liked maps.
But he had stopped short of that, because whatever true thing one told somebody else, that person could use it for power, and would, and he trusted nobody who came into the apartment trying to teach him things. He had had far too many experiences and fartoo many people trying to threaten him into good behavior. Those were easy to spot, and he knew immediately how to get them in trouble. The ones that came in trying to win him over because they wanted to get his favor in the future or his father’s favor now—those were a little harder to spot, because they were good at being polite.
And he really, truly hoped Dasi-nadi was not one of those. He would be truly disappointed if he were.
But he was not going to say a thing about maps for a long, long while, and if Dasi-nadi turned out to be one of those people just after his father’s approval—
Well, it was just going to be harder to figure out, and he was going to be very mad if Dasi-nadi was trying to trick him.
He would never, ever forgive it, in fact.
The thought put him in a glum mood within five steps down the hallway toward his own apartment, and he was feeling entirely glum by the time he walked through his own doorway.
Glum, upset about the new baby having hismother and having all the windows. He was glum about not having a beautiful bay and a boat just down the hill, because he had no boat, Shejidan had no bay. Downhill from the Bujavid there was just a hotel and a lot of businesses all crowding close about the Bujavid and his father in hopes of getting rich.
Damn, he said to himself, and felt as if he had sunk into one of those black holes nand’ Bren had told him about, where everything flowed in, and nothing, not even light, could ever get out. That was the Bujavid, so far as he was concerned.
He had slammed the hall door as he came in—not too hard, not to have his father’s security come knocking at the door and wondering what the thump was. As it was, they could guess, knowing his tutor had just left.
Jegari was in the sitting room. So was Lucasi, both of them at the table with books and papers. Antaro and Jegari had their own lessons to do, Guild lessons, about regulations, and guns, and procedures, and so on. Algini had promised to teach Antaro demolitions when they had gotten through some course work at the Guild. Antaro in particular said she really wanted to learn, and Jegari had said it was a good thing that both of them have that training, to protect somebody who would someday be aiji of the aishidi’tat. So it was possible Antaro was off somewhere about that.
But it was curious Veijico was the one gone, too, when he came back from his lessons.
Very curious. Jegari and Lucasi were clearly busy, however, pens going.
He was just about to ask Jegari and Lucasi where their partners had gone when he heard footsteps in the hall, from the servants’ hall side. The secret knock sounded, and he opened the door himself. There were the missing pair, Veijico in her heavier uniform jacket and Antaro in an outdoor dress coat.
That was odd. They had definitely come in from the service passages; staff could come and go from the next floor if they used the service passages and went through security there. Nobody would stop them. And particularly nobody would question security staff—even wearing outdoor coats.
“Nadiin-ji,” he said with a polite little nod as they came in.
“The shuttle left the station an hour ago, nandi.”
“Good,” he said. He was always interested in the comings and goings of the shuttle. Even if his father would not let him go watch it. But that did not explain why they were dressed for the outdoors or coming in from the servants’ level. “Did you go out to learn that?”
They grinned, both of them. Widely. “You are properly observant, young gentleman,” Veijico said.
“One should expect so,” he said, sure they were up to some mischief, and was intrigued to see Antaro unbutton her coat, which seemed rather uncommonly snug. And there—
There, in a red leather harness and with a coiled-up strap, was a long-limbed little creature all over with black hair, with a pursed little mouth. It stared at him with big gold eyes.
It blinked, looking just waked-up and a little scared.
That was weirder than it staring. It blinked like a person. It was spooky, it doing that. It looked to be thinking.
Its little hands took a firm grip on the lapels of Veijico’s leather coat. It looked the other direction, then buried its face under her coat, still holding on.
That was even spookier. And somehow very sad.